


Let's Hope This Works

by kabrox18



Category: Hot Wheels AcceleRacers
Genre: Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, the brotp is strong in this one
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-04-17 06:47:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14183226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kabrox18/pseuds/kabrox18
Summary: I gave Kurt a cat.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> some postcanon nonsense to give The Edge yet another "fuck off" among the chorus.  
> trying to fix the triangle is a hell of a task :V

Kurt rolled, eyes popping open. Yet another sleepless night. Fantastic. He doesn’t respond to that thought beside a small huff of irritation, and brushes blankets aside, sliding awkwardly out of bed. He doesn’t bother trying to look over to his current roommates in the dark, instead fumbling to grab his glasses, sticking them on and padding out of the room. Quiet and dark; the irony of him sneaking around at night isn’t lost on him, and he mockingly mutters an “ah, Gelorum,” to himself. Why not?

He shuffles down the hall, pausing when he hears a creak—nothing, just someone shifting in bed. He slips from the little hall to the junction, heading into the kitchen and clicking on a little light under the microwave. It was dim and warm, but enough to let him see. He stands there a moment, briefly clueless, before pushing the pantry open, squinting in. He flinched the tiniest bit when there’s the  _ click _ of a light switch, and a sigh.

“What are you doing?”

“Uhhhhh.” He scrambles for a reason, but old paranoia and sleep deprivation crowd all the good excuses out. “Late night snack?”

“Kurt,” Karma sighs, “it’s 3am.  _ What are you doing? _ ” He gives a pitiful noise that cracks off—damn his voice—and turns slowly, not really wanting to meet her gaze. Oh, her arms are folded. Perfect.

“I dunno,” he eventually mumbles, scratching nervously at the stubble arising across his jaw. Shit. Would have to fix that soon.

“Kurt,” she repeats, but softer. “Have you slept at all?”

“I plead the fifth,” he immediately retorts. She shakes her head slightly, as if in disbelief.

“You’re nervous. No, anxious.” She squints a little, and he makes another awful noise. Of course of the Wyldes he had the deeper voice,  _ of course. _ Damn puberty. He sneers the briefest flash at his internal monologue, and she raises an eyebrow at him.

“And? So?” Ouch, defensive much? “You’re awake too.”

“I’m always up at this time,” she says coolly. “Force of habit.”

“I don’t even want to know about your habits,” he grumbled, slouching and dropping his arms together, head tilting off to the side.

“Go back to bed.” She’s gentle, but stern; no room for argument there.

“Can’t sleep,” he confesses, in half a sigh.

“I know. But if you lay there, you’ll at least have bodily rest.” He doesn’t budge, and she reaches up, gently plucking his squareish glasses right off his face. “Go, Kurt,” she insists, folding the glasses and sticking them in his hand. She nudges him aside, closing the pantry door and turning the lights off, setting a light hand to his shoulder.

“Bed’s uncomfortable,” he grunts, resisting her slightly.

“Couch,” she responds, pushing a little harder in retaliation.

———

He blinks his eyes open, screwing them up in pain at sunlight sliding through the blinds, landing right on his face. He sits up to escape it, automatically grabbing his glasses to stick them on. Ooooh, everything hurt. He swung himself over to drop his feet, wincing as he stood, crack after crack leaving him.

“Look who decided to get up,” comes a teasing voice. “Ol’ firecracker joints.”

“Shuddup Monkey,” he slurs, scrubbing his face with a hand and immediately making his way to the bathroom. First thing: Holy God, he needed to empty his bladder. Second thing: get rid of this damn stubble. He’s starting to look like Mark, at this rate. He winces a little at the mental comparison, and shoves it aside. He already had nightmares, no need to drag things into consciousness too.

“He seem alright to you?” Monkey questions, looking to his table-mates.

“Iunno,” Pork Chop shrugs. “He always seems a li’l off to me.”

“He didn’t sleep much last night,” Karma answers. “I caught him last night, in the kitchen.”

“I still wonder how she does that,” Monkey mumbles, once she walks past. She stops at the bathroom door, finding silence.  _ Tap tap. _

“I’m taking a piss,” comes a still-groggy snap.

“Awful quiet in there.”

“M’tryin’ not to fall asleep standing up, too.”

“Mhm, figures.” She rolls her eyes a bit, and sighs. They’re going to have to talk about it, at some point. She knows it, he knows it, Mark knows, hell, even Tezla acknowledged it. So why isn’t he fessing up? She frowned in thought before the door abruptly opened, revealing one slightly shorter, irritated man glaring up at her.

“Can I shave or are you gunna bug me then, too?”

“Hm. I’m going to bother you.” He wrinkles his nose up, and she’s struck with how little he’s changed. Granted, she’s known him personally for maybe a year and change—wild, that all that happened was so brief—and known  _ of _ him since he got famous over being so good a driver at such a bright young age. Dimly, she wonders if he regrets going professional so early.

“Not doing anything interesting,” he mutters, a little offput with the look she’s drilling him with. He turns and scrounges for an electric razor, a little confused and surprised when she abruptly leaves. Well, whatever she was doing, at least she wasn’t bugging him.

———

“You were the guy who started this whole thing. You saw what happened between them.”

“Not everything,” Tezla says, tersely. He’s not enjoying this grilling, but Karma was stubborn and smart, and he had to give her credit for getting to the root so fast.

“So who did?”

“I don’t think anyone did, but them. And those are biased accounts.”

“Obviously.” She sighs, biting her cheek and looking away. The old man was little to no help. Who else was there? She walked off, leaving Tezla to whatever he was up to now, trying to remember back. Vert. Vert had been in World Race, right in the middle of the Wylde rivalry, hell, even an enabler. Who else? Lani? She  _ hmmed _ to herself thoughtfully, finally taking a seat at the kitchen table. Nolo wasn’t there right now, but he was neck deep in brotherhood, maybe he could offer help. Maybe one of their old teammates; Skeet was still kicking around in Florida last she heard, and there was no doubt that the Street Breed guys were all home. Except, of course, Dresden… who would’ve been the most useful.

“You’re thinking,” Nolo observes as he steps in, derailing her train of thought.

“Was,” she sighs, shaking her head.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine. I’m just… annoyed.”

“At?”

“Kurt.” A mild laugh, and he looks to her, taking a seat nearby.

“Oh boy. What is it this time?”

“His sleep pattern.”

“Man, you get irritated over everything, huh?”

“Just him.” Nolo sobers abruptly, going quiet a moment before tentatively going on.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

“And you’re tracking his sleep?”

“Not really. I just keep catching him up in the middle of the night, or asleep in strange places.”

“He… tried to sleep in strange places?”

“ _ Tried, _ nothing. I found him asleep on his desk out in the garage, at one point.” Nolo frowned slightly, seeming to process this before looking back to her.

“You think it’s something with Wylde?”

“No idea, but that’s my best guess.” Nolo nods slightly, brushing his hair aside.

“Yeah, I think it is. He’s not okay.”

“Since when has he been okay?” Vert scoffs, coming in to grab something out of the cupboard.

“Didn’t he save you from Gelorum at one point?”

“No, he just blew up a robot that was after me, and got my car going.”

“I’d say that’s pretty good,” Nolo comments. Vert squints at him, but says nothing else as he leaves the room with his stuff. Karma sighs a little.

“Vert is bitter over what Kurt did, even after World Race. He told me.”

“What did he even do? He was fine with us and the other Teku-“

“His general attitude. He had no need to prove himself like Mark and Vert. He already knew he was one of the best.” Nolo looks at her strangely, but she shrugs. “Some part of me wonders if that’s not a part of the current problem.” Nolo mutely looks away at footsteps, seeing the man in question walk in, looking tired as ever. “Kurt.”

“Mm?” He looks over, but says nothing. He heard everything, even if he won’t say he did.

“Why haven’t you been able to sleep?”

“Nightmares.” Karma and Nolo shared a look, and she silently mouthed  _ that was easier than I thought it’d be. _

“Nightmares?” Nolo tries, hoping he’ll expand on it.

“Yup. Nightmares. When even sleep is against you, you tend to wake up at weird times.”

“Well, did you wanna… get ‘em off your chest?” Karma tries, choosing her words carefully.

“Mhm, sure.” He turns, a cup of something in his hands. “I keep seeing Mark all pinned up like all those crucifixion pictures you see in church, and Kadeem, lower half fucked to hell and back with drone parts. That alone is nightmare fuel, y’know.” Karma blinks. That couldn’t be all of it. There was no way. But he wasn’t continuing.

“Anything else?”

“Yeah, but that’s for me to know. Not you.” With that, he walks out, and Nolo puffs his cheeks out.

“Well. There you have it, I guess.”

“Yeah… but he’s not telling us everything. I’m getting to the bottom of this.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> onto the actual cat parts! :D

“Hey, you making a store run?”

“Ye-ap.”

“Mind if I join you?”

“Uh, sure, I already got the list and everything.”

“Alright, then let’s get going.” Karma walked around, taking shotgun and closing the door. Kurt just kind of eyes her a bit before backing out, making his way off to a little nearby strip mall.

“Kurt, look,” she says, tapping the window. “There’s a pet store.”

“And?”

“Can we stop there before we get like, frozen foods and stuff?” He stops at a light, shooting her a strange look, like he’s trying to see through her skull into her brain.

“I… Guess?”

“Sweet.” She sits back, getting out first when they stop. She smiles to him knowingly, and he just squints at her. The minute they step in, they’re struck with the smell of heavy cleaner. A tiny woman is humming happily, grey hair looped in a tight bun. She’s mopping the floor, animals of varying types, sizes, and shapes all going about their business around her. Karma and Kurt cast a look to each other, before going to her.

“Hello!” She says happily, setting the mop back in the pail and clasping her hands together.

“Hi. Do you have cats here?”

“Yes, of course I do. Come here.” She waved for them to follow, little footsteps clicking off down the isle. Kurt hung back with Karma, eying her.

“Cats?”

“Yeah.”

“Dare I ask  _ why? _ ”

“Nope.” He curls his lip the tiniest bit in response, but Karma just raises an eyebrow, letting the smirk itching to come up bloom over her face. They walk shoulder-to-shoulder after the woman, stopping at the wall of carriers holding various cats. Karma immediately begins looking the tags over.

“Are any of these a little older?”

“Older?” Kurt echoes, eyebrow cocked. She ignores him, in favor of watching the little old lady nod, guiding her to some older cats. There’s a few that are in their prime, but the one that catches Karma’s eyes is a slightly older one with one eye shut. He’s all black, with that one golden eye peering at her from the dark;  _ Zero _ is the name on his tag, and Karma simply smiles.

“Is this one for sale?”

“Yes, yes, but you want younger cat yes? These ones are the perfect age…” The lady gestured to the younger cats, but Karma shook her head slightly, pointing to Zero.

“Nope, I’d like to buy this one.” Kurt squints at her, but grumbles, “I guess I’ll go get the food and amenities.”

———

Kurt sits up abruptly, heart going faster than it had any right to and a persistent shake in his hands.   
_ Miaow? _ Comes from his bedside, and he looks over, a dim light peering out of the dark at him.   
“Nightmare,” he explains, too fresh out of panic to care that he was telling a cat. “I saw Kadeem again.” He slides back, slumping against the wall and closing his eyes. There’s a silky warmth at his hand, and he absently smooths his palm down Zero’s back.

_ Mrr-eow. _

“I know it’s ridiculous. But we were friends, I guess. He… never seemed mad about the whole… spy thing.” Kurt sighed, gently pulling Zero onto his lap. The old cat simply curled up and started purring, all too happy to rest on a warm body. “Do you think if he could think for himself again, we’d still be friends?”   
_ Mrrmmmm. _

“Good point. I should stop overthinking and try to get more rest.” He sighs, shifting around to be comfortable without disturbing his new friend.

———

“Look who decided to join us. G’morning sleepyhead. How do you feel?” Karma poked Kurt lightly, and he just yawned in response.

“That answers that,” Taro joked.

“I slept so hard I don’t even remember anything. I had one nightmare, Zero came to lay with me, and boom. Out like a light.”

“So I was right.” Karma smirks as he freezes, blinking slowly as he replays her words about six times. Slowly, his infamous sneer crawls up his face until he looks no more pleasant than he did during World Race.

“I  _ won’t  _ say it.”

“You don’t have to. I already know I was right. Don’t need your confession to make it true.” His eyes slide to her, narrowed, and she just smiles sugary-sweet to him. He hated admitting he was wrong about anything, but he hated admitting someone else was right  _ even more. _ Lani pokes her head out of the kitchen to the small gathering, and gestures back over her shoulder.

“Breakfast is done guys, come eat.” Karma is one of the first to leave the room, others filtering out; Nolo lingers a moment, half a smile clinging to his lips.

“All teasing aside, Kurt, it’s good to see you getting back on your feet.” With that, he joins the others, leaving him to brood.

———

“I don’t like you any more than you like me.”

“That’s right, yes. Not a very astute observation.”

“Well I’d be making better ones if you didn’t have me pinned up like a poster.”

“You will stay there until I can find a way to get that suit off you.”

“I already told you, pal, it’s only able to be removed with my touch. And you’ve got me hanging here like a starfish. Can’t exactly pop the collar or anything.”

“That’s enough talk from you.”

“...You know, my old boss said something like that to me, once.” A pause, then; “oh  _ that _ got your attention, uh, hello, please back up. I do need air.”

“Say that again.”

“Um, I need air?”

“Before that you snide ass.”

“Nice nickname, sunshine.”

“I said  _ repeat yourself. _ ”

“Woah woah  _ WOAH! Easy with the hands, hey?! _ ”

“Tell me or I’ll pop your head like a zit.”

“M-my boss said that to me.”

“Which one.”

“...Kurt. He told me talk is cheap. I just was… trying to bring him back on our side.”

“Are you trying to do the same to me?”

“No offense, there, Zone, buddy, but I don’t think I’m going to be able to convert you to anything. Not even micro-USB.”

“Stop that. Do you know where he is?”

“Kurt? No. Last I saw him was in that trash realm or whatever, and even then, I didn’t finish that one.”

“Maybe I’ll let you off this if you tell me where they went after they left the realm.”

“You think I know? Hrrk!!  _ I’LL— _ “ coughing, sharp and tense, “ _ I'LL TELL YOU!! _ ”

“You better, lizard. Or I’ll do more than crush your little skull.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what do you think of that side plot huh? ;) it'll become more relevant as things go on.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a meeting of kin and a terribly written reveal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> long time no update hmm?  
> i'm still not really satisfied with any of this, but it's getting there. expect more slow updates as i work things out.

Kurt stopped, sticking his old car in  _ park _ and turning it off. He didn’t step out right away, choosing to sit there a while and just stare. The little house in front of him reminded him of home, a long time ago. After a good ten minutes or so of wallowing in progressively darker thoughts, he decided to just get it over with. The sooner he did this, the better. He climbed out, pocketing his phone and locking the doors before going up the front steps, hesitating again before pressing the doorbell. Barking from inside, and scrabbling, and Kurt winced the slightest bit at another loud bark.

“Down Cinny, easy!” The door opened to Mark, bent to hold a large dog back, other hand settled on the door handle. “...Come in,” he said, backing up. Kurt came in, immediately getting a sniff-down treatment as Mark closed the door behind him, locking it.

“Been a while.”

“A month and change,” he replied, automatically.

“...Yeah. I was beginning to think you didn’t like me anymore.”

“Ah, the irony. I thought  _ you  _ didn’t like  _ me _ anymore. That’s why I never came over.”

“Kurt, I…”

“We both did and said a lot. But it’s the past. Brothers don’t keep score. Remember?” Mark nods, leading him into a small, modern-ish living room and gesturing to the couch.

“Make yourself comfy. I’ll grab waters. Sound good?”

“Sounds fine.” He sits at one end, the dog joining him, plopping right down next to him and resting its head on its paws. Mark comes back, two glasses of ice water in each hand, and sets them on the low glass table.

“Don’t let Cinnamon drink yours. She likes to steal drinks while you aren’t looking.” A nod, and Kurt just leans back. He feels out of place. He doesn’t belong here, he belongs in his small bed in the corner of the repurposed guest bedroom with Zero. “So, uh, how have you been? How has  _ everyone _ been?”

“Alive, still. Vert came back. Seems… bitter somehow. Won’t talk to anyone about where he was.”

“He came back? Of his own volition?”

“I think he was expecting some fanfare.”

“It wasn’t World Race again.”

“I told him that, now he won’t talk directly to me. Always acts like I’m not there.” Kurt sighed, picking up the glass of water; Cinnamon had been sniffing at it and eyeing him as if to try and sneak a drink. He just pours half it down his throat without thinking. The cold feels nice.

“Typical,” Mark sighs, itching absently at his shoulder. The join is seamless to anyone who doesn’t know, but Kurt can see the slight difference in shade between his skin and the artificial cover for his arm.

“How have things been here?” He wants to derail his own train of thought, pulling his eyes away.

“Nice, actually. The couple of neighbors I do have are alright, and Cinnamon is good company, even if she likes to get into things.” The dog lifts her head, tail thudding on the couch cushions. Kurt smiles the smallest bit, but it fades as fast as it appears. “...You don’t like it here, do you?” Mark asks, watching the dull look on his brother’s face.

“I do, it’s nice. You’ve got a good house here, and Cinnamon is just lovely.” She flops her head against his thigh, panting happily. He scratches her jaw, and Mark smiles.

“Thanks. I tried to pick a good place. But… why the long face?”

“Dad’s genes,” Kurt jokes, halfheartedly.

“Funny. But I don’t like seeing you down like this. What’s up?”

“It’s nothing, really. Just had a long day, I’m tired.” He shrugs, and Mark squints at him.

“We can always catch up later, Kurt. You can head home if you need rest.”

“It’s nothing, really.”

“ _ Bullshit, Kurt. _ ” He looks up in surprise at that, his brother standing and staring down at him. “Go home.”

“Mark, I-“

“If you need sleep, go home. Don’t deny this, you literally just said you’re tired.”

“I came all this way to visit and now you’re kicking me out?” It’s half dry, half serious, and he cocks a brow to emphasize it.

“Yes. Your health comes first.” Mark goes and just picks him right up, easy; Kurt just slumps in his grip, not fighting it. No point.

“I’ll come back,” he insists, trying to avoid getting pushed out the door, literally.

“No you won’t,” Mark says, knowingly. Kurt grumbles a “fuck, you’re right. I won’t.”

“You can visit again later. You have my number, call or something. But right now you need to go take care of yourself.” Mark sets him down in front of the door, and wraps him in a bear hug. Kurt grunts at the pressure and hugs back, burying his face against his shoulder.

“I love you.”   
“I love you too. I’ll be fine. Don’t need you babysitting me anymore.” It’s teasing, and Kurt gives a snort, laughter following.

“Are you sure about that?”   
“Pretty sure, you ass!” Mark gives him a light shove and Kurt laughs harder, smile cracked wide.

“Maybe I should stay, just in case…”   
“No way. Shoo fly, you’re bothering me.” Mark smiles too, and Kurt shakes his head, walking out.

“Just you wait, Mark. I’ll be back and I’ll steal your shirts like I used to.”   
“They wouldn’t even fit you, cheeto!” Kurt outright snorted, getting in his car and waving goodbye to his brother. He felt a bit of creeping guilt for leaving so soon, or rather, getting kicked out, but that thought was overridden by the realization that his own brother had called him a  _ cheeto. _

———

Kadeem scowled at the screen. Useless. Useless, all of this information was  _ useless. _ He brushed the monitor aside, irritation more than clear in his posture and features.   
“You lied, didn’t you?” It’s accusing, and he points at his captive sharply, as if to scare the truth out of him.

“I gave you what I know,” he responds, weak and barely audible. He can’t move, anymore; he knows a good amount of him is  _ gone, _ but he just can’t tell how much. Tubing comes off him, but he can hardly see enough to tell where the machinery ends and what’s left of him begins. A glossy black hand slides down, fingers fitting in the thin gaps.

“You’ll tell me more,” Kadeem murmurs, almost gently. “You know more than you’re letting on. I can tell. You’ll spit it out eventually.” He allows himself a triumphant little smirk, the first positive emotion he’s revealed since he captured this man.

“Says you, tin can.” Kadeem looks up at him at that, and rolls his eyes, green sliding around in dark sockets dismissively.

“What makes you think you won’t,  _ Dresden? _ "


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's all fun and games until someone gets converted

“Comoooon, Kurt, just  _ one _ race? Pleeease?” Monkey was laying on the charm, offering one of the slick looking controllers.

“Why.”

“You can play as Street Breed,” Nolo interjected, gesturing toward an achingly familiar neon green logo.

“As if I want to remember that batch of assholes,” Kurt muttered, taking a seat and controller anyway. Truth be told, he really didn’t remember much; all of World Race was a fuzzy spot where he only remembered the feeling of constantly being on autopilot. Then the sharpness of betraying Gelorum, staying in Hot Wheels City for a solid week, and then coming home only to lose his own sibling. The publicity wasn’t fun either, but, it was difficult to say no to the game. He did have moments of clarity, moments where he felt free, moments of snark, backtalk, and general shit-disturbing. Ah, if he was going to remember that nasty green-on-purple color scheme, he was going to remember the good parts of it.

“Batch of assholes, hmm? Does that include you?” Karma raises an eyebrow, half a smirk at her lips.

“No. Just because I was their boss doesn’t mean I was a part of that team.”

“Oh, lighten up, Francis,” she groans, “don’t get all existential and broody over the Zed-36 fiasco right now. I’d rather you trash talk your ex-teammates, or whatever you wanna call them.”

“Maximo was a piece of shit,” Kurt blurts out, but feels marginally better after. “I don’t really remember everything, but god, I remember how much I hated his guts. He was a good driver, absolutely, but his sense of nobility made me want to strangle him.”

“Dark,” Monkey mumbles, but starts the game anyway.

“Dan was a good kisser but I broke his nose once because he said I was too competitive.” Nolo laughs at that, elbowing Karma lightly. She just rolled her eyes.

“Typical. What about Shrimp?”

“Oh, of course you’d know all the members, Karma,” he snarks, but shrugs, already shoving for first. This felt comforting,  _ right. _ “He hated being called  _ Shrimp _ , and he talked so fast it was like listening to videos of John  Moschitta, Jr. But tiny, and from New York.”

“As if you aren’t tiny.” That earns Taro a withering glance, and Kurt  _ harrumphs _ as he claims first.

“Right where I belong,” he says, smugly.

———

“Progress report.”

“Conversion is nearly complete. Power on will be possible in less than an hour.”

“Less than an hour…? You’ve gotten faster at this.”

“We learned much from you.” Kadeem fell silent, not enjoying the reminder of his own forced transformation.

_ A blessing in disguise, _ he reminded himself, and approached the acid-green tank. He finds his eyes sliding away, no matter how much he tries to look at the body hanging there in the heavy, gel-like fluid. He can’t look at Dan. He can’t look at his once-fellow World Race competitor, at the way he’s strung up like a ruined marionette with too many tubes feeding into an inhuman form. He feels sick; a new feeling since he was captured. It feels like fingers in his belly-tubing, like something squeezing up at his throat. He decides to not find out what happens when a drone vomits, and turns away, walking off a distance.

“Tell me when he’s done. I want to…”

“See your newest soldier?”

“Something like that,” he mumbles, through another heady wave of nausea.

———

Kurt yawns, stretching his legs a bit and shuffling himself differently. Zero gives an indignant  _ mrrow! _ and swats at him halfheartedly, to which he responds with an apologetic pet along his back.

“Sorry, buddy, just trying to get comfy. Did you like staying with Karma today?” No response, besides the cat shifting to face away. “Went that well, huh? She is a bit of a perfectionist, I know… Probably even worse than I used to be.”

“I dunno,” Taro says, walking past, taking a seat in the nearby leathery recliner. “You were…  _ pretty bad _ during World Race, and I can’t even tell you how much of a snob you sounded like when I saw news about the Grands Prix.”

“Being snobbish and being a perfectionist are two different things,” he retorted, but looked down to the cat nestled against his chest. “Am I a snob, Ze?”

_ Meerrow. _

“Wow. Rude.”

“Are you talking to the cat?” Taro questions, face blank. Frankly, he doesn’t seem surprised. Zero starts purring, as if on cue, and licks at one of his paws, washing his face a bit.

“He’s a better conversation partner than some of you,” Kurt mutters, shooting a sidelong look at his former rival team leader.

“There you go with that again,” Taro sighed, and Kurt couldn’t help but snort a laugh, Zero looking up at him in displeasure. “Zero was right in his judgment of you.”

“That’s cryptic and mildly worrying,” Kurt said, suddenly sobering.

“Relax, I’m just giving you shit,” Taro says, a little concerned with how quickly Kurt dropped his amusement. Kurt huffed and mumbled something inaudible to him, recieiving a plaintive meow in response. Whatever he said, Taro wasn’t meant to hear. Still, he’d have to let Karma know. Kurt was improving, but it was clear something was still haunting him.

———

“I don’t know what it is he said,” Taro says, over a glass of some fruit juice he hadn’t paid any mind to.

“But you saw him sober up over a vague joke?”

“And then he talked to the cat more,” he adds, nodding.

“He has been talking to Zero a lot, I took it as a… kinda odd coping method.” Karma rubs her upper arms, as if she’s cold, and expels a heavy sigh. “I don’t know what to do. He needs closure, obviously; those nightmares are only pushed away right now.”

“But Kadeem could’ve survived.”

“He could’ve. Drones don’t  _ usually  _ die from falling like that. There was track leading up, he could’ve landed there and gone into hiding while we left.”

“So? What’s this have to do with closure?”

“I’m not taking him there, not when things could go worse than they did. Who knows how Kadeem is running the show? He could’ve doubled, or tripled production, beefed up security, captured other drivers. I’m not taking him there,” she repeats, a little more emphasis on it.

“So we wait?”

“I don’t know,” she exhales, settling her hands up to her temples and putting pressure on them.

“I want to help him, get him back on his feet after everything—I get the deep sense that he was hit the hardest.”

“Or damn near it,” Taro rumbles, agreeing.

“But, right now, at least—there’s no way for us to help him. We just have to wait, and hope.”


	5. Chapter 5

“...Hope he wakes up soon, given how much power we’re feeding into the loop,” some worker drone tittered, high, buzzing voice entirely too irritating for the current ache throbbing through his head. He let slip a hollowed growl, and flicked his gaze over, hoping his irritation was made clear enough. The worker backed off, thankfully, but a lieutenant model replaced it, the grate of its vocoded voice making him cringe.

“He is awake,” it states, plainly.

“Yes,  I’m awake, excellent observation,” he retorts, lip curling. The action feels distant, not all there, and he’s pushed upward into a sitting position, then ushered into standing slowly. His limbs feel far heavier than he remembers, and lifts a hand to his face, being met with glossy, dim metal and strangely-colored, faintly-pulsing joints instead of his own pale hand.

“The conversion was successful,” the worker chirps, and he wants to end it for being so damn  _ annoying. _ He looks to his hand again, flexing and extending the fingers slowly; the strength in them was well hidden by simple, too-smooth movements. Like a machine.

“Conversion?” He asks, sluggish thoughts catching up with the rest of him.

“Yessir. You are now 87% drone. The cybernetics make up a good portion of that, and we were able to preserve more than expected. Kadeem gave explicit orders to keep you as intact as possible.” He slowly looked down to the much smaller robot.

“You talk remarkably... informally.”

“Not so much informal, as using words that are kinder to what human remains of you.”

“Fair enough,” he says, shrugging it off and looking down, testing his own balance. The joints sat differently, and his center of weight was much higher up. Definitely would take getting used to.

“Kadeem wished to see you once you awoke,” the lieutenant model says, choosing to disregard the worker.

“So lead the way.”

“He will be arriving shortly. No need.”

“Shortly is an understatement.” The accent made him look up and over, to a familiar face. “Good morning, Dresden. Sleep well?” The sardonic mocking is one thing that makes its way through his stubborn headache, and he smirks.

“Well enough. Looks like I’ve got some new additions, too.”

“Yes. Although, I will ask why you’ve yet to open your eyes.”

“My eyes are closed?”

“Yes. You’re relying completely on infrared.” Dan opens his eyes, and he’s assaulted by the two modes of vision blurring into one, visible light taking the forefront, a reticle of sharp angles sitting dead center no matter where he looked. It seemed burned into his retinas, but small enough it didn’t interrupt his vision. It all hurt, sharp, like stakes driven through his eyes, and he cringes visibly.

“Did you ruin his eyes?” Kadeem asks, a thinly-veiled threat in his tone.

“No, sire. But the conversion process is messy, still-”

“I told you to keep him as comfortable as possible.”

“For the surgery-!”

“For the entirety. Including his recovery. I suggest you remedy this  _ mistake _ before I do it myself.”

———

“Come on, we’re going out.” Karma prods him again, and he hisses some half-garbled curse, burying himself further under the blankets and pillows. Zero watches from the foot of the bed, and meows at her, proceeding to wash a paw. As if to say,  _ don’t bother with him.  _ She rolls her eyes a little and peels the blankets back halfway, Kurt groaning angrily and flipping to glare at her sullenly. She backed off, folding her arms. “I’ll get you up somehow. C’mon.”   
“It’s  _ Saturday, _ ” he whines.

“Exactly! Prime time to get you out of this funk. Let’s go.” She pulls on his arm, half sitting him up. He grumbles more, slumping forward. She nudges him out of bed, rolling her eyes at more protests.

“I’m not in a funk.”   
“Kurt. Look at the clock.”

“....Yeah. And?”   
“It’s 3 in the afternoon. Most people are up before then. You’re in a funk. Don’t lie.” He grouses about something, and goes to pull a shirt on, just sliding it over his head and leaving the room. “Is he always like this?” She asks Zero, who just watches her briefly before trotting out after his human.

———

She grinned, giving him a thumbs-up. The one thing that made Kurt happy was, ironically, the thing that had gotten him into this state; racing. He took off at the light, eyes narrowing a bit in delight at the feeling of being kicked back in his seat. She leaned to peer back at their already falling competition, and laughed a little.

“Keep going!” He obliges, and she turns forward again, unable to keep the smile off her face.

“I think we won,” Kurt snarks, glancing to his mirror.

“How much do you think they’re going to hate us?” She asks, as they come to a sharp stop.

“Who knows. That reminds me, though, I need to call our guy at CLONE.”

“Building a new car?” She elbows him a bit, and he waves her off.

“That’s my secret, Karma.”

“Not very secret if I can go into the garage and find out for myself.” They both stepped out, the other guy looking quite unhappy.

“You cheated, didn’t you?”

“As if,” Kurt retorts, Karma coming up to his side.

“Sign says otherwise, Ricky,” she teases, pointing up to the ancient LED sign that read off times. “Point-two-four. Impressive timing, Kurt.” He huffed, making a face and instinctively ducking his chin to hide his blush. Unfortunately, he didn’t have that tall collar to save him, and she poked his bicep, grinning full-out.

“That’s a drag racer’s reaction time.”

“You had to be quick on Highway 35,” he grumbles, but offers a hand up. Bell huffs and presses a few twenties to his palm, sticking his jaw out stubbornly.

“I shoulda still won.”

“Listen, Ricky, there’s a damn good reason I was head of Street Breed, and it’s not because I’m pretty.”

“Yeah and it’s called  _ you bribed Tezla. _ ” Kurt snapped out of the bragging state, shocked back to the ground by the retort.

“I did  _ not! _ ”   
“Ladies! Ladies, you’re both pretty. Let’s get going, yeah?” Karma breaks it up, ignoring the dual glares, and she rolls her eyes over to Kurt, who huffs.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go. Thanks for the races, Ricky.”

“Mhm, you too.”

As they walk off, Kurt looks over to her.

“I was already aware I was pretty.”


End file.
